


Shingeki no Aion

by saccharinefeverdream



Category: Aion (Video Game), Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Battle, Crossover, Eventual EreRi, M/M, Magic, Multi, POV Alternating, Wings, damn tho daevas are rad as hell, maybe some smoochies, maybe some vague smut or something, nothing major tho, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 16:55:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1312297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saccharinefeverdream/pseuds/saccharinefeverdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The blond man smirks and holds an outstretched hand to you. "How would you like to join the revolution? Let's reclaim this land for all Atreians." You stare down at his hand for a moment, taking a breath. Is it really worth it? With Asmodians, nonetheless?... Damn.<br/>---<br/>Levi is a rogue Elyos with a lost path, Eren is a troubled Asmodian fledgling with enough rage to take down a fortress, and Balaur soldiers have made normal life almost impossible for all Atreians. A certain blonde Asmo commander has the crazy plan to bring all Daeva together against their common enemy, but they'll need to first learn how to make peace with each other before any plan can take effect.<br/>Easier said than done.</p>
<p>Ascend to Daevahood, get your wings, and devote yourself to the fight for Atreia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act 0; A Forgotten Past and His New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> yoooo so this is a thing i've been planning for a long time now. i'm hella excited about it. i mostly just wanted to get this out there even though i know not a lot of people are actually familiar with the game Aion, and maybe this might get some snk fans at least interested in it a little. btw, i actually do have a blog for this AU, it's shingeki-no-aion.tumblr.com, and i'd really appreciate it if people checked it out! bluh bluh i've rambled enough; let's get to it, shall we?

Had you known exactly how brutal the Abyss truly was—if only you had listened to your commander—perhaps you would’ve found someplace other than Reshanta to find your solace. You were constantly edge, no longer flying for Elysea, and an enemy of Asmodae, always a possible target, always under the threat of certain death. It was a dark place; endless darkness as far as wings will take you, and though you know your homeland was… somewhere below, you still feel as though the expansive void continued relentlessly, hopelessly on.

Your name is Levi. Just Levi. That’s all. Your last name has faded into inexistence, and you don’t particularly care. You prefer to be rid of it anyway; it’s done nothing but cause you pain your entire life. In fact, all of your life up to this point is something you’d like to forget. You’ve got more than enough of a reason to not give two shits about what happened back then. You're used to only moving forward at this point, albeit bitterly. Dreading the past only drags you down, you've found, and a Daeva like yourself shouldn't be stirring on pointless things like that anyway.

You clutch at your side tightly, taking deep breaths as you pump your wings tiredly, taking refuge on the outer ledges of the Western Shard of Latesran. You land quickly, stumbling for a moment, and you duck behind a ridge that hid a small, dark cavern, perfect shelter for a Daeva of your stature to take refuge in unnoticed. You pull your hand away from your side, sucking in a sharp, pained gasp as your palm came away spattered in deep red blood.

You hiss quietly, kneeling down inside the cavern, and you quickly summon a healing potion from the cube attached at your hip, popping it open easily. The glass comes to your lips and you swallow down the thick, red, bitter potion in small gulps; immediately, you feel the energy of the potion pulsing through your veins, a tingling sensation swelling over the gash in your waist as the sharp pain is washed away.

You take a knee, leaning down and breathing slowly, recovering from your previous fight with a rather headstrong female Asmo sorcerer in which you barely emerged victorious, only barely managing to run her through with your blade before she dealt you too much damage.

You card your fingers through your dark locks slowly, giving a final sigh before you bring your hands to your cube a second time, quickly summoning one of your many stolen kisks. You root it down in the rubble, bracing it with your hands as you bind it with your soul.

You haven't returned to Teminon Fortress in several weeks. You find yourself terrified of going anywhere near the landing since you stripped yourself of your Elysean ties. You know you're listed as a traitor, and you have no safety net for your spirit, unable to bond yourself with a soul obelisk. Because of this, you live in absolute fear. If you die, you'll wither into nothing but rogue Aether; gone forever. This is why you must raid other Daeva of their kisks---it’s the only way to survive.

You take a moment to rest up, glancing around your surroundings to ensure you are alone, and you pull back into your makeshift shelter, taking a seat against the rocky wall and quickly lighting some tinder for your fire before consulting the cube at your hip once more, removing some ripened melafruit to sate your growling stomach.

**\------------**

The ground shakes around you as it jolts you awake, and you brace the rocky rubble scattered underneath you with your hands, air pumping in and out of your lungs as you desperately search your surroundings, in fear that you may have been caught.

A deep, dull hum vibrates through the air, passing straight through your body, and you immediately feel sick to your stomach, like you might vomit at any moment. Your hand covers your lips as you gag, convulsing slightly and trying to keep yourself upright, and you mutter soundless curses to yourself as you stumble to your feet, searching for the entrance of your cavern, and your trembling fingers curl around the jagged stones that line the walls; your eyes frantically search the void outside, finally falling upon the source of the sickening hum, and your breath catches in your throat, strangled by the same fear that ruffles up the snow white wings unfurling from your shoulders, the terror that turns your blood to ice and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

"Shit... the Dredgion."

You let out a soft hiss of panic, frantically reaching back and wrapping your trembling fingers around the hilt of your sword, swinging it around to your front.

Your muscles tense as the hatches of that large ship crank open, and out flood hundreds of Balaur, the draconian menace of Reshanta. More times than you’d prefer to remember, you’ve seen whole hordes of these monsters tear through numerous squadrons of Daeva, often leaving behind nothing but blood drenched feathers and severed limbs. Thankfully, you’ve had more than enough practice with slaying these scaled bastards to make it through this attack… as long as you aren’t ambushed.

You open your wings, spreading them wide, pumping them once, twice, and you leap from your perch, diving down, down into the midst of battle. Quickly, your blade finds leathery flesh, and you jab forward, ripping through, and your target falls from the air, its foul, dark, boiling blood splattering over your armor.

A second attack came from below, sharp claws just luckily grazing your thigh, and you fall to the rocky surface of the island right below, stumbling momentarily before you find your footing again. You immediately lunge at the Balaur to your left; _swing, swing, swing_ _—_ your blade misses twice but lands on the blow— _squish_ _…_ _thud_ _—_ and the monster’s head hits the rubble under your feet.

You take a split second to breathe, eyes darting around your surroundings, and your fingers brush over the stinging cuts on your leg, pulling away stained red. You scowl. _Disgusting_.

A deafening roar splits through the void, and you spin around fast, barely in time to duck under the gnashing fangs that snap at your head. With a grunt, you shove your foot against the Balaur soldier’s stomach. With a flash of your fingers, you cast it immobile, and your blade makes quick work of running the monster through the heart, all the way to the hilt.

            It gives a shattered scream as you rip away, tearing deeper into its flesh and watching it fall to the ground. You glance down at your sword, hissing in discontent at the way that disgusting, blackish blood coats and now drips off the edge of its blade.

            You shrug it off, though, and sprout your wings, taking to the void with focused eyes. You rise up higher, scouting out the area, listening intently to the sounds of distant screams and the clang of clashing metal.

            _Thud… thud… thud._

You glance upwards, and fear washes over you, the panic practically strangling as you watch the Dredgion’s gates part a second time, this time much closer than before.

            Balaur soldiers fall like rain from above and you beat your wings faster, faster… faster, _fuck, get away, get away, **get away**_ —

            They swarm your body and your blade works on instinct, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you slash in every direction, ripping through scale and muscle and bone, blood spraying and bodies falling— _slam_ …

            A sharp pain tears through your abdomen and you quickly hit the hard, jagged ground with a hiss, vision going blurry and fading to red. The hot sting of your wound begins to numb, and your limbs feel frozen. You’re certain you’re dead.

**\------------**

            Soon, you feel a jolt of agonizing pain pulse through you, and you groan, every muscle tensing at once as you gasp for breath. You feel something rising in your throat, and you gag, coughing up bile and blood that drips down your chin and onto the floor.

            The first thing you notice when you finally open your eyes is that you can’t seem to be able to open your eyes. Or at least that’s how it feels. It takes you a moment to register the thick piece of cloth that you can feel tied around your eyes, and immediately you freeze in uncertainty.

            The second thing you notice is the tight pressure around your chest, and you can’t move your arms or wings at all, as they seem painfully bound to your back. Your ankles are just as restrained, and it’s now that you start to panic, letting out defensive hisses as you thrash about, but a sharp shock quickly shoots through you, and your muscles fall weak.

            Voices mumble softly in the background, but the words that come out are like nothing you’ve ever heard before; all of this puts you on edge like more than anything.

            Hands suddenly brace your shoulders and you gasp, unable to fight back now, but if your racing heartbeat was any indicator, you were absolutely scared.

            You try to pull your head away as sharp fingertips brush your temples; _sharp like claws_ , _oh fuck, no, no, **no**_ _—_ the fingers are surprisingly gentle as they reach back further and slowly tug the cloth away from your eyes, and your lashes are finally able to flutter open, panicked.

            It takes a good moment for your vision to adjust to the unexpected darkness of this small room, but when it finally clears, all of your terrified suspicions are confirmed.

            _Asmodians._

The will to scream is caught in your throat and you can’t seem to force it out. You can’t even breathe. No matter how hard you try, you’re frozen, _vulnerable_ , at the hands of your worst nightmare. All you can do is lay there, motionless… so _this_ is how you’re going to die.

            But none of them appear hostile.

            It’s confusing at first. They all take an idle stance. None of their weapons are drawn; none of them seem fazed at all. If anything, they just look somewhat tense. Their eyes feel like they’re burning into you as they watch you so closely, and yours simply dart from person to person, desperate for any kind of possible explanation. They only mumble to each other in a language you can’t dare hope to understand.

            That is, until the tall Asmo blond with the light gray skin in the front steps forward and his hands are raised in front of him, a sort of cautionary gesture that you recognize as making peace. You still are wary nonetheless, and you watch him carefully.

            He pulls out a small glass container, and a clear blue potion sloshes about inside when he presents it to you. You narrow your eyes at it, baring your teeth in warning, but the Asmo pops off the top of the vial and steps even closer. The hands holding your shoulders tighten their grip, keeping you easily in one spot and you let out a hiss, shaking your head about until fingers curl in a tight grip on your hair, yanking your head back, and the blond man shoves the vial to your lips, a clawed finger prying at your jaw and opening your mouth up just enough to tip the liquid inside.

            It tastes fucking _awful_ and you hate it and you _hate_ these people; you snarl and bite down on his fingers but it does nothing against the hard surface of his claws. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and instead holds it shut now, leaving you with no choice but to force down the disgusting blue concoction.

            When he’s sure that you’ve swallowed, he finally releases his grip on your jaw and the tight tug on your hair slowly slips away. You jerk forward and cough quietly, shooting a glare as sharp as diamonds at the man, spitting a growl of anger. “Fuck you…”

            “Well,” the Asmo man’s lips turn up into a soft smile, “That’s not very polite.”

            Wait.

            What?

            Your eyes widen in shock, staring up at him in confusion. Did you just really understand him? The look of understanding on his face as he nods implies that you did.

            “I can see you’re a bit lost…” His low voice forms words that roll from his lips flawlessly, not a single accent to be heard, and it's now that you realize, it was the potion. A communication elixir, it must've been.

            “No shit, what the hell is going on here?” Your tone is laced with poison when you finally speak up, the glare returning to your eyes, and you scan him up and down, glancing over to the silent Asmodians standing around.

            “First, you should know… we aren’t going to harm you.” He clarifies, taking a knee before you to get down on your level. You would be offended if you weren’t so tied up. “Unless, of course, you act up.”

            You roll your eyes. You really despise this man. “Then fucking tell me why you brought me here. Why am I not dead yet?”

            His expression softens, giving a slight shrug. “Because… we want to make a deal with you.”

            You pause for a moment. “What sort of deal?...”

The man gives a sigh, “As you know, the Balaur have seemingly become damn near impossible to defeat as of late. There are far too many of them to reasonably fight anymore. The events just earlier are more than enough proof of this.”

“Hah, yeah, you mean when I got my ass kicked?” You sneer, not particularly wanting to remember what that was like.

“Sure, let’s go with that.” He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Anyway, during the attack earlier, I, along with these wonderful soldiers behind me,” he nods to them with a smile, “were in the middle of our regular scouting patrol. When that happens, we work our hardest to assist the other Daeva in thinning the numbers.

“However, we managed to stumble across a certain Daeva that singlehandedly wiped out nearly an entire legion of Balaur in a matter of minutes… it was one of the most incredible things I’ve ever seen in my life. We couldn’t just lose such a talented Balaur slayer, no matter which side he hails from.”

“You mean… me?” You ask slowly, blinking up at him.

“That’s right.” He smiles softly, and you can tell he has quite a knack for a calm demeanor despite his large stature. “But when we saw the Dredgion open up again and that you were being overwhelmed, we couldn’t just let you die. So we saved you from that horde, and brought you back to the fortress… and here we are!”

“I can see that.” You nod with a sigh, able to see exactly where this was going.

The Asmo man gives a nod to the person holding you in place, and they stand you up gently; whatever spell it is that bound your arms and wings to your body makes a quiet _ting_ as it's released, and you can't help but roll your shoulders with a relieved sigh, stretching them out. You're still fairly sore.

"So, what do you say?" The blond man smirks and holds an outstretched hand to you. "How would you like to join the revolution? Let's reclaim this land for _all_ Atreians."

You stare down at his hand for a moment, taking a breath. Is it really worth it? With _Asmodians_ , nonetheless?... Damn.

"... I'll stay alive? Well kept?" You ask softly, cocking a brow. "And I'll be kept off the record, right?" You throw that in just to be safe. You'd prefer not to end up on the morning memo's list of targets for your old superiors to go after.

The man nods in confirmation. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

You smirk, chuckling quietly, and you reach out a hand, carefully grasping his clawed one in a firm grip. "Then you've got yourself a deal, sir."

"Good to hear." He smiles proudly, and the other squad members in the room are grinning and talking excitedly with each other. "Welcome to the ranks, soldier. Call me Commander Smith."


	2. Act 1, Part 1; The Sun Rises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Asmodian child Eren Jaeger seems to be the only of his peers that hasn't shown signs of power nor prodigal magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took so much longer to write than the first chapter, dang. it's a bit shorter than i expected, but i certainly think it's adorable in itself. c:

            The slow, rolling water of the lake is cold against your silvery skin as you dip your claws into its surface, and you smile; it’s a nice change of pace from the unnaturally warm summer it’s been here in Ishalgen.

 Sitting here on this dock is one of your favorite things to do no matter the season, though, especially in the twilight like this. The clouds overhead are practically nonexistent, and the stars---if that's what they really are---peek out from hiding amongst the glowing currents of Aether that flow far above, like an aurora of blues and violets and emeralds with specks of platinum shine, as the light says its final goodbyes to the day and welcomes the moon’s rebirth.

 The soft patter of stepping boots approaches from behind you, and you turn, glancing up as a small hand taps your shoulder.“It’s getting fairly late, Eren dear.” Negi, the owner of the dock, says sweetly, nodding over to your adopted sister Mikasa, who is brushing through her dark mane in the water. “If you and your sister have caught enough fish for dinner, then maybe you should run on home before too many insects come out and eat you alive.” She gives a soft chuckle.

             You nod with a grin, bare toes sinking into the pebbles that lined the bottom of the lake. You look to your little woven basket on the dock, quickly counting through the freshly caught fish. "Hmm... maybe just one more." You tell her, and you hop up on your feet, glancing across the surface of the shallow lake for quick movements of fins.

             You hunch down, hands hovering over the rippling water when you spot a decently sized salmon just a little bit further in. Creeping forward, you hold your breath tight in your throat, claw tips just barely pricking the surface as the creature below you sways from side to side, unnoticing. Your hands hesitate for a moment, but when you find just the right opening, you slash forward with your talons, breaking the calm waters quickly, and their tips sink into scaly flesh, snatching the salmon, writhing in your grip, right out of the lake. 

             The salmon wriggles wildly and flaps its fins, but you quickly unsheathe your small work dagger and make a clean cut over its gills, and it slowly falls limp in your palm, tail still twitching as it dies. You think nothing of it, and you toss it into the basket with the others, replacing the cover so that perhaps any wandering spriggs wouldn't try to steal your catch.

             "Mikasa!" You call to her, rinsing the bit of blood from your claws before stepping closer. "Are you ready to go home?"

            She nods, standing quickly and wringing the water out of her long mane before turning to Negi with a smile. "Thank you for letting us use your dock again." She says softly, and she gives a grateful little nod.

            "Trust me, kids, you can come down here and fish any time you need, alright? I love having your company." The sweet young woman smiles at you as she begins to pack up her supplies for the night. "Oh, and do me a favor: tell your mother that I have that raydam pie recipe she asked for ready whenever she wants it, alright?"

            You smile and pick the basket up off the dock, waving goodbye to the angler woman with Mikasa at your side, "Can do, Negi! Azphelumbra!"

  **\------------**

 "So then Mikasa just sort of slashed at the little spriggie like  _this_ \--!"

            "Eren, please, we are at the dinner table." Your mother quietly laughs, chastising you gently. "You might knock something over." You huff softly and sit back in your chair, poking idly at the vegetables on your plate.

            "Speaking of that, though," Your father then speaks up, taking a drink from his glass, "Mikasa, how do you feel about your new sword? I was a bit wary about getting you your first weapon at such a young age, but I figured a practice blade wouldn't be too much of a problem for you to begin with."

           Mikasa gives a soft smile as she nibbles at her bread, "I like it a lot, papa, thank you," She nods. "It's not too big or anything. I was out practicing my swing on the hay bales in the field earlier today; did you see me?"

            "I certainly did," Mom speaks up, brows furrowed slightly in worry. "Listen, dear, that thing can be quite dangerous, so I want you to stay on this side of Munihele Forest, alright? I don't want you getting anywhere near the karnif pack on the other side---at least not alone."

            "I will," is all Mikasa says next, and she returns to taking small bites of her fish.

            There's a long pause as everyone eats in silence now. It's usually how dinner goes for your family: always a bit of conversation at the beginning, then nobody ever seems to have anything else to say. You cough, working up the nerve to ask the question that had been weighing on your mind ever since your father gave Mikasa her first weapon on her birthday two weeks ago.

            "So, um..." You pause, taking a breath before continuing in a soft voice. "Papa, when can I finally... y'know... get my own weapon too?"

            He sets down his cup and clears his throat, looking at you directly now. "Eren, we've already discussed this... your birthday isn't for another month or so; even then, eleven years old is  _still_  much younger than children start practicing for their class, you know this.

            "I was thirteen when I received my first practice mace and joined priest training with the Raiders, that's when almost all people begin class paths," He continues, "I was just lucky I was chosen by Aion's will to ascend as a cleric."

            Ah, yes, you remember father's stories of how he became a Daeva, his healing powers catching the attention of even the Academy of Priests in the capital city of Asmodae---Pandaemonium---where he now works on the board of clerics. That's all you know, though; for some reason he refuses to tell you or your sister any details about his projects at the capital. All you know is, he is essentially a "doctor".

            Your mother reaches over and pats his shoulder with a soft smile before looking back to you and Mikasa. "Perhaps one of you two will become a Daeva one day! But Eren, do you even have a class chosen for whenever you begin training?"

            "Of course I do!" You nod enthusiastically, hands on the table now and leaning forward. "I want to be a scout!"

            Your father gives an understanding nod, thinking it over for a moment. "Hmm... that may actually work out well! You could be quite successful with a bow and arrow, and you're fairly fast as well... with the right training, you'd be fantastic."

            "I think so too, dear," your mom stands and begins cleaning off the table, "perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad idea to get you a bow to practice with when your birthday comes around." Your face lights up in excitement, smile growing wide as she speaks, and your father nods in agreement.

            "Then maybe you can go with Mikasa into the forest and practice your aim on the trees and such," he adds.

            You can't help but be overwhelmingly excited; all you've wanted for the longest time was to eventually enter a class and train yourself to fight and maybe even, eventually,  _possibly_  become a Daeva, if Aion's will allows.

                      Ever since your dear friend Armin first told you of the world outside of Ishalgen---the foreign lands of magic and power and beauty and the rest of Asmodae as a whole---the world  _only_  accessible to divine beings... you yearn for this power, for your freedom from the mortal binds of simply being Human. Your father ascended before you were even born; there was nothing stopping you from doing the same! Other than, you know... the whole Divine Will thing.

  **\------------**

 You've hardly had a chance to completely wake up, dark chestnut hair still disheveled on your head and soft tunic hanging from one of your shoulders, before Armin knocks at your door with a wide grin, dragging you outside into the warm orange light.

            "A-alright, alright, Armin!" You manage a breathless laugh, crouching down beside him. You'd chased him halfway across the village just to hear this supposedly amazing news he had to share, and now you were tucked behind a tree, strategically placed out of sight of any wandering eyes, which you assume your friend has done on purpose. "What do you want to tell me?"

            Armin shakes his head, blinking excitedly up at you. "Not tell, but show." He smiles, holding out his hand to you. "May I borrow your knife for a moment?"

            You pause for a moment before glancing down to the blade holstered at your hip, and you flip up the cover, unsheathing it and handing the grip over to your friend. "Um, sure, yeah. What for?"

            "You'll see." He gives a little smile, looking over it momentarily before he does something that causes you to raise your brow, mouth falling open.

            With a soft flick of his wrist, he makes a little cut to the palm of his own hand, just big enough for a small drop of his dark blood to pool on his steely silver skin, and he gives a soft whimper. You see his sharp teeth bite gently onto his lower lip, and you grab his wrist in worry. "A-Armin, what the hell..."

            "Wait, wait, it's alright." He assures you, and his eyes tell you that he knows what he's doing, but you still tug the knife from his hand anyway. "Just watch." He says next, blinking down at the little wound on his palm, and he brings up his other hand, pausing for a moment. His clawed fingertips swirl in a rhythmic motion over the little drop of blood, a weak orb of light blossoming up between his hands, and you can't help but gasp softly in bewilderment.

            There's a soft noise, like the sound of a small bell chiming in the distance, and when the little luminous ball fades away, Armin wipes his palm down on the grass, clearing the blood away enough to present his hand to you once more. "Look, Eren."

            You pull his wrist closer, examining it total disbelief. Surely enough, there is no longer a cut. "A-Armin, you... t-that was--"

            "Healing magic!" He nods excitedly, grin growing wider on his lips. "Can you believe this?"

            You shake your head, practically gaping at him. "No, not at all! How did you do that?!"

            "I managed to get a hold of an old spell book in grandfather's library; it took a lot of practice, but I finally figured it out! I wanted to surprise you." He gives a small laugh, beaming with pride.

            You nod in agreement, "Well that was  _really_  surprising for sure." The wide smile on Armin's lips is apparently contagious, and you can't hold back your own matching one. It truly is incredible, Aetheric magic coming to someone so young, but you always knew Armin would be a prodigy. "So... what does this make you?"

            He blinks at you for a moment in thought. "Well... I always had a feeling that maybe someday I'd become a priest." He confesses, and you nod in understanding, for that certainly seems like the most logical option based on what you'd just witnessed. "I've always wanted to help people better themselves, so becoming a healer is what I've had on my mind." He shakes his head in this cute little motion of excitement, and his soft blonde hair flips up slightly. It's cute, really.

            You give a smirk, a single question resting on the tip of your tongue, and you hesitate momentarily before letting out. "Then... what would you choose, if you happen to...? You know."

            "You mean if I... ascend someday?" He gives a little knowing smile in return, tapping his chin lightly. "If I were to become a Daeva... I think I'd be a cleric."


End file.
